


Chowder

by Pep_Squad_Levi



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Break the Cutie, Drug Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medicinal Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pep_Squad_Levi/pseuds/Pep_Squad_Levi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hockey lends itself to repetitive strain injuries. History repeats itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> I recently entered this wonderful fandom, and just had to write something for my sweet perfect baby Chowder. If you notice any mistakes or typos, please let me know :)
> 
> EDIT: I'm going through and reformatting this whole fic because it's near impossible to read lol

 

 

Chris Chow was never one to complain, especially after he had joined the Samwell Hockey team. He had taken one look at the beautiful Faber rink with its high windows and abundance of natural light and decided he wouldn’t let anything ruin the time he spent here. 

 

Of course there were the occasional hardships. His defence team was more focused on fighting each other than stopping pucks, and he hadn’t quite gotten used to sleeping without Caramel’s deep snores rising from under his bed, but apart from these minor inconveniences, Chowder could hardly complain about his life at Samwell.

 

He noticed the pain early on a Sunday morning when he reached for his alarm. Frowning, he lifted his arms above his head and winced as his left shoulder protested the movement. Steeling himself, he repeated the motion again, letting out a long groan as his shoulder popped and sent rivers of pain racing down his arm. Chowder sighed and lowered his arms, keeping his left elbow in his right hand to keep his shoulder still.

 

Pain from practice wasn’t a new thing for any of them. They all had days where their bodies ached. Dex was complaining about his calves just the other day. Chowder shuffled into the bathroom. He fumbled in the medicine cabinet before producing a small bottle of Advil. He managed to get through the child safety lock, pulled two tablets from the bottle, and tossed them to the back of his throat. Dipping his head, he sucked water from the tap and gulped the pills down.

 

Chowder straightened with a sigh, running a hand through his heavy bangs. After a few attempts to keep it tucked back, he gave up and shoved the offending hair under his Sharks cap. As he waited for the painkillers to kick in, Chowder went about the lengthy task of flossing through his braces. By the time he had brushed, flossed, and lamented in the mirror about his teeth, his shoulder felt completely normal.

 

He stood for a moment wondering if he should take the Advil with him to practice. There was no real reason for it. His shoulder felt fine now and if the ache returned, he could always bum a few painkillers off Shitty or one of the others.

 

Still, he didn’t exactly want Shitty to know his shoulder was troubling him. If he told Shitty then Shitty was bound to tell Jack, and then Jack would take it way to seriously and worry about whether he should play in next weeks game. Jack had enough to worry about without one of his frogs complaining over nothing. Chowder turned the bottle over in his hands before tossing it in his bag, grabbing his key, and sprinting down the hall, out into the brisk air.  

 

Dex and Nursey were waiting for him across the parking lot, standing just far enough apart that any passers-by would have thought they were complete strangers that had happened to pick the same wall to lean against. Chowder jogged over to them.

 

“Keeping us waiting, Chowder?” Nursey called, reaching for his bag as well.

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry guys!” Chowder said, “I guess I overslept.” He quickly fell into step between them. Dex snorted.

 

“More like took an hour to floss your stupid braces.” He continued, knocking their elbows together. The defence team laughed as Chowder spluttered in protest.

 

The Frogs managed to make it to the dining hall in fairly good time considering their late start. After waving to a rather sleepy looking Bitty, and collecting a sizable breakfast for each of them, the three friends slotted themselves into the spaces at the team’s table.

 

“Morning Bitty,” Chowder greeted him, shovelling a forkful of egg into his mouth. Bitty smiled and returned the greeting, before returning to his own yogurt and oatmeal.  As Chowder wolfed down his eggs, he noticed the space beside Shitty was missing.

 

“Where’s Jack?” He asked, squirting a generous helping of ketchup on the rest of his eggs.

            “He said something about getting to the rink early to plan drills.” Shitty said, more to his coffee than anyone at the table, “He’s all worked up about next week. You know how he gets…” Shitty shrugged drinking down the last dregs in his cup. “He’ll go back to normal soon.”

 

Chowder ignored the indignant expression on Bitty’s face as he gulped down more of his breakfast. Apparently ketchup on eggs was a disgrace to culinary arts, or at the very least it was disgusting to Eric Bittle. Shitty put down his mug and bent his head forward, cracking his neck. “Speaking of, we should probably get down there ourselves. Wouldn’t want to get bitched out by our dearest Captain for being late.”

 

_

 

Chowder stepped out of the shower with a contented smile. Practice was a goddamn nightmare of drills capped off with an extremely irritable captain. No one had expected any different, but it was hard to keep from groaning as Jack ordered the drills to be done over and over until every team member had done it perfectly. 

 

It had paid off in the end. The team had been tired, but there was a shabby sense of pride that came from Jack’s satisfied smile as they finally were allowed to leave. Chowder’s chest felt a warm tightness when he remembered Jack’s hand on his shoulder after he had barely stopped a hard shot.

 

“Nice work, Chowder,” Jack had called as he circled back to the others.

 

He’d done really well today, and his captain noticed. It was a relief to know all that worrying he had done this morning was just his own paranoia. Through his bangs Chowder could see Holster and Ransom arguing playfully over whether having a good practice could justify throwing a party on a Sunday night. Chowder hoped they would. Haus parties always seemed to bring out the best in the team, especially where Nursey and Dex were concerned.

 

Chowder had seen them having drunken heart to hearts in the halls of the Haus, heads pressed close together amid the pounding music. He had a theory that if two people were drunk together consistently; they would eventually have to become friends.  Coming back to himself, Chowder finished combing his hair and towelled off.  By the time he’d pulled on his jeans, the hypothetical party had been cancelled due to Ransom’s ‘major fucking massive quiz on Monday.’

 

“Besides,” Ransom said, pulling his shirt on, “We’ll go hard next weekend after we fucking destroy Princeton.”

 

“Hell yeah,” Holster called back, “If we play the way we did today, we’re gonna crush them.”  

 

Chowder tuned out their conversation as he pulled his shirt on over his head. He only barely held back a gasp as his shoulder screamed in protest. Very slowly, he lowered his arms and straightened his tee. Chowder stood for a moment trying to remember if he had somehow aggravated the ache during practice. He had worked hard, and the painkillers probably wore off half an hour ago. It was reasonable to assume that the heat from his shower had relaxed him enough that he didn’t notice the pain had come back until now. There was nothing to worry about, he decided in the end. He had just overworked himself in the past few hours and needed to rest his shoulder. Chowder moved slowly as he redressed, trying not to jar his shoulder any more than it had been.

 

“Chowder, you ready to head out?” Nursey called from the other side of the locker room. Chowder glanced around to find that while he took his time dressing, everyone else had filtered out.

 

“Oh yeah,” he said as he quickly moved to pack up his kit, “Sorry, didn’t realize everyone had left. Guess I was taking longer than usual.” Nursey rolled his eyes and leaned against his locker.

 

“Chill Chowder,” He said pulling out his phone, “I don’t mind waiting.” Chowder zipped his bag up and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. This time he couldn’t hold back a yelp of pain as the weight of the bag crashed onto his left arm. Dropping the bag, Chowder stumbled back, gripping his elbow again. Damn it, he was almost out too.

 

“Shit, you okay?” Nursey ran forward, taking in Chowder’s pained expression.

 

“Fine,” Chowder ground out, “I’m fine, really, I promise.” Nursey raised his eyebrows.

 

“I know how important it is to safeguard your masculinity, but seriously,” He stepped closer to his teammate, “You okay?”

 

Chowder sighed and shouldered his bag on the right side.

 

“Really,” He said, forcing himself to smile, “I just didn’t realize how heavy my bag was.” Nursey, clearly not convinced by this story, moved to take the bag.

 

“No really,” Chowder said, stepping back, “I’m fine.”

 

“Chowder, you practically screamed,” Nursey countered, “I’m not buying it. What’s wrong with your arm?”

 

Chowder weighed his options. Lying to Nursey was useless at this point, but he was still wary about admitting to the pain.

 

“If you don’t tell me,” Nursey continued, “I’m going to tell Bitty there’s something wrong with his favourite Frog and then he’ll fuss over you until you have to tell us what’s going on.” Nursey sat back on his heels and held out his hand for the bag.

 

“I just over worked my shoulder in practice,” Chowder murmured, handing over his bag, “Please, please, please don’t tell Bitty.” Nursey shouldered the bag, looking concerned.

 

“Has it hurt like this before?” He asked leading the way out of the locker room.

 

“Never this bad…” Chowder confessed, “It was bothering me this morning as well.” He absentmindedly rubbed the offending limb. “I thought it was left over from Friday, I guess it still could be.” He felt a flush creeping up his neck as he spoke. This was stupid. Hockey was physical, even for goalies, and he should be able to carry his own damn bag back to his room without Nursery’s help.

 

“Maybe you should tell Coach Hall about it,” Nursey said, “Or see someone, y’know, professional about it.  A doctor or something. Remember that speech Jack gave us on taking injuries seriously at the beginning of the year?”

 

“It’s not that bad, really,” Chowder said, “A little rest and it’ll be fine. Please, don’t tell anyone though,” He added, “I don’t want anyone worried.”

 

Nursey didn’t answer.

 

“Promise you won’t tell, Nursey.” Chowder stepped in front of the defenseman, “Please, please, don’t tell anyone.”

 

Nursey stood, his ground, pushing past Chowder.

 

“I can’t promise that,” he said as Chowder jogged to catch up, “I mean, this is sort of something that Jack should know. Especially with next week’s game coming up. If you’re not in good form we can always get Anza to fill in.”

 

“Don’t tell Jack!” Chowder grabbed Nursey’s arm, forcing him to stop, “I’ll take care of this myself I promise. I’ll see someone about it if you really think I need to, but please, this isn’t anything big. Don’t tell Jack.” Nursey sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

           

“Okay fine, I won’t tell Jack, but you’d better deal with this properly.” Chowder smiled widely at Nurse’s words and let him keep walking.

           

“I will,” Chowder said quickly, “I promise I’ll go see someone today after lunch or something.”

           

“You better,” Nursey said, “But chill, seriously, no one’s gonna be mad at you for taking time to get better. Everyone would understand.”

           

Nursey was right of course, but that help Chowder’s anxiety. He couldn’t take time off from practice with a game so close, and there was no reason to bother Bitty with another of his problems. He would just have to deal with this himself.

           

“I was gonna head over to the library,” Nursey said, stopping, “You good to head back by yourself?” Chowder fought the urge to duck his head in embarrassment.

           

“I’m fine Nursey, really,” He answered, grabbing his bag from his friend, “I can make it back on my own.”

         

“Just make sure you see someone about your shoulder,” Nursey said, “I’ll see you later.”

         

Chowder shouldered his bag, and walked back to his room. He took one look at the massive pile of laundry he had to do that day, and promptly fell face first onto his bed. The walk with Nursey could not have ended sooner. The look on Nursey’s face when he asked if he could make it home alone was so pitying that Chowder just wanted to curl up and die. He wasn’t a child; he was a goddamn college student.

 

He desperately hoped Nursey wouldn’t tell anyone, because if Bitty or Holster or, god forbid, Jack looked at him with pity like that Chowder would have to leave Samwell, move across the ocean, and fake his death. He would never recover from that kind of embarrassment.

         

Chowder rolled onto his back and pulled his bag closer. He dug around until he recovered the bottle of Advil. He knocked back a couple before turning to the pile of laundry and vaguely wondering if he actually had any detergent left. 

   



	2. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been going so slowly... I've been putting this chapter off and writing scenes from later on. Ugh, whatever, here it is: Chapter 2

       

 

Chowder shifted uncomfortably in the plastic waiting room chair of the walk in clinic. He had never been nervous around doctors, but this was different. There was always the chance that the doctor would advise that he took a break, or worse, that he stop playing. He had heard stories about collage athletes who had to give up because of injuries before they were even able to start a career in sports. He could not let something this stupid endanger his position on the team.

       

“Mister Chow?” A nurse poked her head out into the waiting room, “Doctor Wells will see you now.” Chowder jumped up, nearly knocking his chair over and hurried to the office.

       

He couldn’t help tapping his heel against the side of the table as the nurse took his blood pressure and asked him the preliminary questions. Thankfully she was efficient in her work and assured him he wouldn’t have to wait much longer before the doctor would be there.

       

To Chowder’s great relief, Doctor Wells walked in minutes after the nurse left. He gave Chowder a warm smile before quickly reading over the nurse’s clipboard, and sitting down across from him.

       

“What seems to be the problem?” Dr. Wells asked, adjusting his glasses.

       

“I’ve just been having some pain in my left shoulder,” Chowder fidgeted as he answered, “I think I might have overworked it playing hockey or something…”

 

Wells noted this down.

       

“When did the pain start?” He continued.

       

“A coupled days ago,” Chowder mumbled. He hadn’t kept his promise to Nursey. He had completely forgotten after they’d talk on Sunday, and he had been swamped with homework for the rest of the week, so in the end he hadn’t managed to get to the clinic until Wednesday.

       

“Have you been medicating the pain?”

       

“Yes”

       

“What with?”

       

“Advil mostly”

 

Wells jotted down this answer.

       

“And has the pain gotten worse?” Chowder briefly considered lying.

       

“Yes,” He confessed, “It aches all the time now.” He didn’t mention that he had managed to go through a half full bottle of Advil in four days. 

       

Dr. Wells wrote this all down, and then pawed through his clipboard, considering his notes.

       

“Lift your arm for me, please,” He said stepping towards his patient. Chowder lifted his arm and let the doctor dig his fingers into the flesh of his shoulder. Wells turned Chowder’s arm and slowly bent the joint back, lifting the limb higher. Chowder couldn’t hold back a gasp.

       

“That hurts?” The doctor inquired.

       

“Ow! Yeah, yeah, yeah it hurts!” Chowder said, tears of pain pricking behind his eyes. Wells immediately let his arm return to a comfortable position.

       

“Hm,” He said, his brow furrowing, “You must be in a lot of pain… Has it gotten this bad very recently?” Chowder thought this through.

       

“No. Well, yes, I mean,” Chowder tried to explain, “It wasn’t this bad a few days ago but we had a morning practice on Monday, and I always work out with Dex and Nursey on Tuesday after class and it really hurt when I got up this morning, but it’s been bothering me since Sunday.”

       

Eventually, Dr. Wells paced back to his clipboard and scribbled down his findings.

       

“There’s no inflammation in the joint, and there’s no swelling apparent.” He said, taking off his glasses, “It’s probably a strain due to a repetitive motion. We see this a lot with athletes.” He scrawled something down on a piece of paper before tearing it off and handing it to Chowder. “I’m going to prescribe you Percocet. It’s a heavier painkiller just to give you some relief. This won’t get better without rest though. Take a break from hockey, and make sure you don’t do anything to aggravate the injury.”

       

Chowder nodded quickly, grabbing the slip of paper.

       

“Thank you, Dr. Wells,” He said, hopping down from the table and making for the door.

 

__

 

After trying to complete his homework while the room next door played music louder than a rock concert, Chowder decided he would be more productive in the library. He shoved his laptop into the bag and swung the strap over his shoulder.

 

He was surprised when his arm throbbed in protest. Gently he put his bag down and ran a hand over the offending limb. He had taken the last of the Advil before heading out to the clinic but that had been hours ago. He fumbled through his bag and pulled out the bottle of pills he had been proscribed. _Percocet._ _Chris Chow. Take as needed. Do not exceed 6 pills in 24 hours._ Dropping his bag, he grabbed his water bottle from the bedside table and gulped down one of the pills with a swig.

 

On his way to the library he went over the words the pharmacist had said to him as he picked up his prescription.

 

“There are a few side effects you need to know about,” She had said as she sealed the paper bag, “Nausea is the most common effect. Dizziness and drowsiness are also common. Do not use heavy machinery or drive when under any of these side effects. Come see us right away if you notice any rashes or inflammation of the skin.”

       

After finding a table in the back of the library, Chowder arranged his messy notes around him and selected the page he had been reading earlier. He had been studying for a quarter of an hour before his mind slowed to a crawl. His thoughts, which had been scrambling to remember what they had talked about in his seminar last week, became still and sleepy.

 

Chowder sighed and fought the urge to lay his head on the table. He had tons of studying to do and after that he had to make sure he was feeling okay enough to go to practice. The team needed to be in top form for their game on Saturday, and he was no exception.

       

Yet, it didn’t seem like so much to do, now that he thought about it slowly. His thoughts usually got away from him, and he tended to over think everything because of it. This slowness really put his mind at ease. It was so much easier to just read through the page of notes without the worry of practice or Dex and Nursey’s constant bickering pressing in on him.

       

In the back of his mind he knew this was a side effect of the painkillers. But the pharmacist had said drowsiness was common, and hardly problematic so long as he didn’t drive. Considering Chowder had yet to even think about getting his licence, he figured that this symptom wouldn’t give him too much trouble. Besides, this wasn’t so bad.

 

Glancing at the clock, Chowder gave himself another hour of studying before he went back to his dorm. _Then practice,_ he thought to himself, _Then I’ll be free to sleep after dinner._


	3. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Turns out this fic will probably update as much as the actual comic.... Well, anyway, here's Friday

       

 

The rest of the week passed far too quickly for Chowder’s taste and as the weekend crept up on the Samwell hockey team, Chowder’s nerves increased. He’d been pretty good in the past few practices, but there was always some stupid mistake that he got hung up on after. No one ever directly called him out for them but he couldn’t help his heart sinking to around his navel when he let in an easy shot.

 

Thankfully his shoulder was hardly troubling him anymore. Those Percocet tablets were magic. Two of those in the morning to sooth the stiff ache in his shoulder and he was good to go until lunch. Two more right before afternoon class, and then two just before he slept and he was pain free for the whole day. When Nursey had quietly asked if he had “dealt with the problem?” he smiled cheerfully and reported that everything was back to normal. He never quite got used to the hazy feeling right after he took the painkillers, but it was a small price to pay for the almost instant relief.

       

He arrived at Friday’s practice with Bitty, which was always nice because Bitty talked enough for both of them and could be easily pressured into stopping for coffee. The locker room atmosphere was tense. Jokes were made, jockstraps were thrown, but there was an underlying excitement about tomorrow’s game.

 

After suiting up appropriately, and carefully avoiding all of the pucks that were lying about the rink, Chowder skated out with the rest of the team. Quickly, he tested his shoulder to make sure the pills he took earlier were in full affect.

       

He couldn’t afford to be dealing with pain this close to a game. If he wasn’t in top form he’d let the team down and then maybe he’d get taken off the line. He’d seen it happen to Bitty after he fell one too many times, and it had always been clear that any injury was cause to “take a break” from playing.

 

Chowder couldn’t let that happen. He was always happiest here, under the high, high windows, safe in the cage. Thankfully, there was no pain in his shoulder as he skated out to his position. This problem was sorting itself out faster than Chowder had anticipated, and he was incredibly grateful.

       

Unfortunately, his good mood did not last through practice. He’d been fairly okay in drills, but he’d let in six shots in shoot-outs. _Six._ Coach Murray didn’t say anything to him directly, but reminded them all to get a good night’s sleep before their game tomorrow. Nursey had shot him a worried look in the showers, but Chowder had brushed him off with a smile.

 

Back in the locker room, Chowder had tried to change as quickly as possible. He’d fucked up and he knew it. No one wanted to say it, but missing all those shots was worrying. He wouldn’t be forgiven for pulling that in a game. Hockey was competitive even at Samwell, and while Anza was a great back up, Chowder needed to maintain his position on the team.

       

“Didja see Jack out there?” Shitty called out, his voice muffled by the shirt caught around his neck, “Scored three times in a row! My boy was on fire.” Jack pointedly ignored the shirt that Shitty threw at him after he spoke and let it fall to the floor.

       

“Nice going, Jack,” Ransom answered, pulling Chowder from his thoughts. He fidgeted with his bag, wishing Dex and Nursey would hurry up and change so they could get back.

“Boy wonder was a little sloppy tonight,” Holster said, “Careful you don’t win the game for Princeton, Chowder.”

 

His tone, and the answering laughter from the team, was light hearted. It was meant to be a chirp, but Chowder felt his stomach turn to ice. He really couldn’t afford another slip up like tonight. Laughing along with the rest of them, Chowder pulled his hat down, told Dex and Nursey he’d see them at breakfast, and promptly left the locker room.

______

_12 am,_ the blinking lights from his bedside clock told him. _Six hours before I have to be awake,_ Chowder supplied for himself. Sighing, he rolled from his stomach to his back, stretching himself out to his full height.

 

He couldn’t sleep.

 

He’d been lying in bed for an hour now, desperately trying to break his habit of napping before games, but sleep just wouldn’t come. His head was packed with excitement and worry. Tomorrow’s game wasn’t even necessarily important (though, Jack would remind him that _every_ game is important,) but there he knew they needed to win this one.

 

As chill as Nursey was, he would tell someone if he thought there was something seriously wrong with one of his friends, and there was nothing seriously wrong with Chowder. He couldn’t let this get blown out of proportion. He rolled back to his stomach and tried to imagine how Carmel’s snores would sound.

         _3 am_ , the clock read. Chowder groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. If his goddamn brain would shut up for a second maybe he’d get some actual sleep.

 

He reached into his bag, searching for his phone. A few rounds of candy crush should put him to sleep, and if not, at least he’d have beaten the next level.

 

He froze when his hand brushed the bottle of Percocet.

 

He slowly drew the bottle towards him. Every “don’t steal or abuse prescription meds you teenage hooligan” video from high school health class flashed through his head, stopping Chowder from knocking two back and enjoying the fuzzy calmness the pills awarded him.

 

Still, he wasn’t using them to get high or cheat on a test or anything. All he wanted to do was get some goddamn sleep. Sighing, he twisted off the child safety lock, and poured a couple white pills into his palm. He couldn’t remember exactly how many he’d taken the day before, but it couldn’t have been more than six doses. Resealing the bottle, he tossed it into his open bag and threw his head back on the pillow, waiting for sleep to come.


	4. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man... I don't even have an excuse anymore... I'm just putting this off. 
> 
> Also to anyone who's interested Percocet is a real drug, but it's pretty rare that they'll prescribe it because people abuse it so much. The More You Know!

       

 

“Three fucking cheers for Jack, I could kiss you, you beautiful mother fucker,” Shitty chorused from where he was sitting in the front of the bus. The rest of the team cheered along with him.

       

They’d won.

       

They’d won by a mile. Every single one of them had played their best and the whole bus was full with a satisfied elation. Chowder smiled, feeling personally proud. He’d been concerned when he woke up again yesterday morning with pain shooting through his shoulder, and had quickly gulped down his morning dose. It meant that he slept through the bus ride there but it was worth it to wake up pain free. And he’d played great.

       

Shitty even said so as they skated off and Ransom had wasted no time ruffling his hair as soon as they were in the locker room. The entire day had left him with a tight feeling of pride deep in his chest.

       

“Everyone do everything the same next time and we’ll be golden for the play offs!” Ransom called from his place next to Holster. The blond defenseman responded by throwing his legs over Ransom’s lap and slouching against the window.

       

“Jesus, everyone shut up,” he grumbled, pulling his hat down over his eyes, “We had to get up at six today and I’m due to catch up on some shut eye.” Ransom rolled his eyes before leaning over and flicking the hat off. Chowder giggled, before slumping back into his seat and thanking his lucky stars that everything worked out just fine.

       

“Yeah, I’m sure we still would have won, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t a complete idiot in the second period.” Oh no.

       

“C’mon, I slipped up once it doesn’t really matter anyway, just-“

       

“I swear to god, if you tell me to ‘chill’” Oh fuck no.

       

Nursey and Dex had been perfectly fine on the way here. Granted, that may have been because Dex slept most of the way and Nursey kept his nose buried in the most pretentious poetry book he could find in the Samwell library, but still, this was an unfortunate development.

       

“If Chowder hadn’t been on his game tonight, we would have lost our two point lead.”

       

“We would have won it back.”

       

“You can’t know that!” Dex and Nursey’s bickering faded to inane chatter as Chowder watched the scenery roll by. Dex was partially right. Nursey had dropped the ball and let a break away get through, but the shot was stopped and they’d gotten another goal in the third so it wouldn’t have mattered.

       

Would it?

       

Chowder worried his lip as he turned over the game’s events in his head. They’d been in such a good place going into the third, that losing hadn’t even crossed his mind. Would he have been more shaken if they hadn’t had their two goal lead? There had been a few close calls in the third period and if they hadn’t been at their best, they could have easily lost everything.

 

Jack wouldn’t blame him directly, he never did, but that didn’t stop Chowder from feeling responsible. He was the last line of defence and it was disheartening each time he saw that he’d failed to protect the team’s victory. In his heart he knew that if he wasn’t playing well enough, Jack would chew him out for it, but the insecurity still remained. He was just some freshman on a team that was more mature and experienced than he was.

       

Chowder ran his tongue over his teeth and once again cursed his braces. They made him look like a kid. That combined with everyone fawning over him like a child just made him worry they couldn’t trust him with his position more. He wasn’t a child anyway. He was just as mature as the rest of them.

       

_Boy wonder was a little sloppy tonight._

       

Chowder drew his lip back in between his teeth.

       

_Careful you don’t win the game for Princeton, Chowder._

       

Holster’s words echoed through his head, sending a nasty chill down Chowder’s spine. How sad was this? He was an adult, he should be able to take some teasing from his teammates without having a complete crisis over it. Dwelling on it would be childish and stupid. Holster meant nothing by the comment and probably does even remember saying it. It was just a chirp. Light hearted, meant to tease not… Cause a breakdown on a bus two days later?

 

Chowder sighed and pulled his hood over his head. Maybe he could actually nap for part of this trip. After a few minutes of his head banging against the window and every goal he’d let in playing behind his eyelids, he sat up straight again.

       

Chowder moved to lie across the two seats he was occupying. As he stretched out the bottle of Percocet rattled teasingly in his pocket. He’d already taken his morning dose after he woke up almost unable to move his left arm, but the need to shut down won out against any reservations he had.

 

Working as quickly as he could, he dry swallowed two pills before hiding the bottle away. Glancing around the bus, Chowder decided that no one had seen him, and hunkered down for the rest of the trip. After ten minutes of blessed silent, fuzziness he fell asleep.

 

__

 

        Jack ran a hand over his face as he looked back again at the sleeping freshman. There was something worrying about the way he had glanced around the bus just after taking his meds. A tiny voice in Jack’s head reminded him that the only reason he thought it was worrying was because that’s just the kind of look he’d cast around the locker room or the dorm after he’d taken his last dose.

 

But there was no reason to think there was anything actually wrong with Chowder. He could have medication for anything, and was maybe embarrassed about taking it. That was common enough. Or maybe Jack was making it all up in his head. It wouldn’t be the first time he got overly fixated on a problem that didn’t exist. Still, the slightly scared, slightly triumphant expression on Chowder’s face was all too recognizable. Jack shook his head and turned back around in his seat. There was probably nothing to worry about anyway.


	5. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for why this has not been updating.... Oh well, here's chapter five. Sorry it's so short but the next bit of this story differs too much with how this chapter goes so I needed to cut it off. The plot should pick up a bit after this chapter and we'll see this whole thing come crashing down soon enough :)

 

 

Of course, in the end, the inevitable happened. Chowder woke up in the morning and reached for his meds, only to find the bottle empty. He lay for a full minute just clutching the bottle in his hand. He should have been more careful. The pills were supposed to last him three whole weeks and he had burned through them in one.

 

Chowder groaned and fell back onto his bed. He had known the pills would run out, but he’d assumed that his arm would be healed by that time. And it probably would have if he hadn’t pushed himself so hard at every practice and gave his shoulder the proper rest. Still his shoulder was much better than it had been and only ached in the mornings or after working out. Chowder could easily make do with Advil and some proper care until the pain left him completely.

       

Chowder picked at the label on the bottle. The truth was, he wasn’t just using the pills to relieve his pain. Percocet had the amazing side effect of making his mind shut down. It look every racing thought and slowed it to a crawl until all Chowder was left with was a perfectly blissful sense of peace.

 

Once he was calm, nothing seemed to matter. He didn't feel any pressure from hockey, or school and, best of all, he didn’t worry about letting Jack down.  Chowder really didn’t want to give that up. He did feel slightly bad about using his meds like this, but it wasn’t like he was getting high and partying. He was just trying to relieve some stress.

       

Morality aside, Chowder was still left wondering exactly how he was going to get more.  He briefly considered seeing if there was anyone on campus that was selling Percocet or something similar, but he didn't know the first thing about buying drugs.  Besides, as long as he was getting the pills through legal means he wasn't risking any kind of real repercussions.

 

He could go back to Dr. Wells and tell him what happened, but that might just complicate things further. Dr. Wells seemed to be a sympathetic man, but Chowder highly doubted that he would approve of his methods of stress relief.  There was no way he could get any more of his meds without telling some form of a lie.

       

Chowder sat up.  Back in high school, he’d been forced to sit through at least a dozen talks about teenagers that stole their parents’ prescriptions and used them to get high. What if he could convince Dr. Wells that his prescription had been stolen?  Chowder knew he had a baby face and adults always seemed to trust him. This would be pressing his luck to the extreme, but it also seemed like his best chance at refilling his prescription.

       

Taking a deep breath, Chowder forced himself to stand and pull on his clothes.  His shoulder pinched a little when he shrugged on his backpack but it was nothing like the debilitating pain he’d felt a week ago.  He shouldered his pack and his guilty conscience and made his way to practice, running over his plan.

 

__

 

       

Once again, Chowder found himself in the waiting room of Dr. Wells’ walk in clinic. He forced himself not to bounce his leg as he waited.   He had never lied about something like this, and the guilt was driving him crazy.

 

Absently, he wished he had a dose to take away all the nerves he was experiencing and just forget what he was about to do.  After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse called his name and he found himself once again in Dr. Wells’ office.

       

“So Chris,” The older man said, quickly glancing over his charts, “What seems to be the trouble now. “  Chowder took a deep breath.

       

“Well, I have a bit of a difficult situation,” He began, “I've been taking the pain killers regularly, and I really think they were helping, but I left them in my locker at the rink and when I got back they were gone.” Dr. Wells furrowed his brow.

       

“Do you think someone took them?”  He asked.

       

“Maybe?” Chowder knew the importance of exaggerating how innocent he sounded, “It’s not like I hid them or anything.” He shrugged a bit, trying to gauge Dr. Wells’ reaction.  Wells just ‘hm’-ed under his breath, and scribbled down something on his clipboard.

       

“So you’re in need of refill of your prescription.”  Dr. Wells said, pushing up his glasses. Chowder felt a flicker of relief. It seems his story had been bought.

       

“Yeah, I mean, my shoulder’s kind of better but it’s really not in great shape.” He rolled his shoulder and winced for emphasis.  Dr. Wells scrawled down a prescription before tearing it and handing it to Chowder.

       

“Here, this will get you a refill.”  Chowder valiantly fought the urge to punch the air in triumph. “Don’t forget to call us if you develop any other symptoms and, between you and me,” Dr. Wells leaned in closer, “I’d keep a closer eye on your meds from now on.”  Chowder nodded sheepishly before thanking the doctor and walking back out to the waiting room.

       

As soon as he left, a wave of guilt welled up inside him. Chowder clutched his prescription notice closer and walked quickly past the woman at the front desk. She gave him a tight smile, which he returned before hurrying to the pharmacy downstairs.  He was suddenly sure that she knew exactly what he had done, and didn’t want to spend another minute under her shrewd gaze.

       

He handed over his prescription, and waited with sweaty palms for the pharmacist to find what he needed.  Every second he stood there made him worry that someone would see a hole in his story and demand an explanation. Then he’d have no choice but to confess and everyone would find out that he’d lied about his shoulder and about someone stealing his medication and oh god, the whole team would know.  He’d be put on athletic suspension, and the team would have to replace him for the season.  Worst of all, he’d have to deal with the shame of letting his friends down.  Damn it, how could he have been so stupid?

       

“Here you are sir, sorry for the wait.”  Chowder blinked.  The man behind the counter was holding out a paper bag expectantly.

       

“Oh, um, yeah, sorry, sorry,” He scrambled to pull out his wallet and handed over the money.  He took the bag with a quick ‘thank you’, and walked out to the street.  His mind was still fixed on his fear, forcing him to imagine how Nursey and Dex would react if they found out their best friend needed drugs to keep his own head in check. 

 

With fumbling fingers, he tore open the bag and grasped the bottle of pills. Twisting off the top, he fished out two pills and gulped them down dry.  Even though the pills hadn’t taken effect yet, Chowder felt a sense of calm wash over him.  He only had to hold himself together until the Percocet took over.  He could do that.  Just barely, but he could.

       

Ignoring the guilty feeling that still lingered, Chowder boarded the bus, and set off back to Samwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fairly certain that this isn't actually how walk in clinics operate, but this seemed more plausible than Sweet Baby Chowder buying hard drugs on campus.


	6. Sunday/Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I super don't have an excuse for how late this is.... Also these were originally two chapters but they weren't long enough to post on their own so I made them one. Also, I'm fairly sure this isn't how hockey practices actually happen... but whatever. Enjoy :)

       

 

Chowder’s hands shook as he quickly packed up his gear. The team chirped and chatted away behind him, but he kept his head down and focused on getting out as soon as possible. He’d been a total mess on the ice. He just couldn’t focus; nothing seemed real at all. Everything that used to be so familiar to him seemed fuzzy and wrong. His gloves felt awkward and clumsy, and he didn’t feel steady on his skates.

 

His coaches watched as he let in shot after shot, just reacting too late to make the save. At first, the team had been good-natured about it, throwing chirps his way as he sloppy mess in the cage. After he let in the sixth shot though, the laughter petered out.

       

Chowder could have kicked himself. He’d completely dropped the ball and let his team down. Glancing beside him, he saw Nursey and Dex, heads pressed close together. They were probably whispering about it now. The thought made his stomach twist painfully. They were his friends, both of them. They shouldn’t have secret conversations about him, especially when he was still there. Unless they didn’t really care about him, and only needed him to fill a place on the team…

 

Chowder shook his head and pushed the thought from his mind. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one else was ready to leave, Chowder grabbed his bag and made for the door.

       

“Hey Chowder! Wait up!” Chowder froze. Nursey had also grabbed his bag and was jogging to catch up. Before he could think of an excuse to leave, Nursey sidled up to his teammate.

       

“Can I talk to you about something?” Nursey asked, as he and Chowder walked out of Faber. Chowder clenched his fists in an attempt to stop his hands shaking.

       

“Yeah, course, sure,” He said quickly, “What’s up?” Nursey looked at the ground.

       

“The uh, the way you’ve been playing these past few practices. It doesn’t have anything to do with your shoulder does it?” Nursey said carefully. “It’s not because you’re still hurt is it?” Chowder shrugged.

       

“Nah, my shoulder’s fine. I took care of it remember.” He said. It wasn’t totally a lie. His shoulder didn’t trouble him anymore, but that may have more to do with the fact that he was doubling up on his doses of Percocet.

       

“Are you doing okay?” Nursey asked, finally looking up at his friend, “Dex said that you were acting really weird this morning. And with the whole shoulder thing, he was, y’know, worried. And now you’re not playing like you used to-“

       

“You told Dex?” Nursey flushed red when he realized his mistake.

       

“Yeah I told Dex, okay?” He said, looking at Chowder pleadingly when the goalie let out an angry huff, “I was worried about you! He is too, y’know. We’re your friends, Chowder, we want to help you.”

 

So they _were_ talking about him. Chowder couldn’t see past his anger. Nursey had told Dex. He had gone back on his word and spilled Chowder’s secret. Fear seized him.

       

“So who else knows? Bitty? The coaches? Jack?” Chowder rounded on Nursey and forced him to stop walking, “Why didn’t you just tell the whole fucking school?” Nursey held his ground.

       

“Just Dex, okay? Jesus, Chowder, chill,” Nursey shrugged his bag up on his shoulder, “Look it’s not that big a deal.”

       

“Yes it is!” Chowder countered, “You promised that you wouldn’t tell! You gave me your word you wouldn’t!” Chowder knew yelling at Nursey wasn’t going to fix anything, but he was so angry that he didn’t care. “Forget it. Just leave me alone, I’m fine, okay?” Nursey opened his mouth like he wanted to apologize, but Chowder didn’t give him the chance.

       

“Chowder wait!” Nursey called after him as he stalked back to the dorms. Chowder didn’t turn, and eventually Nursey gave up trying to call him back. Chowder didn’t know if he was happy about that or not.

       

As soon as he got back to his dorm he gulped down his next dose, trying to erase they way Nursey looked as he left him on the sidewalk. His friend had looked so hurt and confused. After all, he thought he was helping Chowder. Chowder didn’t need his help though, and there was no reason for him to bring Dex into this.

       

Chowder sat on his bed as he replayed the shots he’d missed. He didn’t understand why things had gone so poorly. It seemed that every time he reached for the shot, he was a second too late. Maybe last week’s game was just a fluke and he was losing his game. Or maybe his shoulder really was messing him up like Nursey said. Groaning, he fell backwards onto his comforter wondering why it was taking so long for his meds to take effect. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his throat closed in shame.

       

He was pathetic.

       

Here he was, lying on his bed, desperately trying not to cry while waiting for his meds to take deal with his problems so he didn’t have to. His team could never see him like this. He curled onto his side, shaking with suppressed sobs and tried not to think about practice tomorrow.

 

__

 

       

“Come on Chowder! Step it up!” Chowder winced as Shitty skated back to the line. Something was wrong. It had to be. For the past week, Chowder had suffered through one brutal practice after another. He wasn’t fast anymore, and he couldn’t focus at all.

 

He’d tried not to take the pills before practice, but his hands started shaking so much that he swallowed two doses in one just to calm himself down. The shakes had been happening more regularly as well. At first he just thought it was his nerves, but then it seemed that the longer he went without medicating the worse his shaking got.

       

Thankfully no one on the team had noticed yet, but his friends had been acting strange around him lately. Every time he hung out at the Haus he had to fend off at least three people asking how he was doing or if he was alright. The worst had been Bitty, who very gently reminded him that everyone on the team had his back and if there was anything wrong Chowder could tell him. Chowder had just smiled and told Bitty that he was fine, and that school and hockey just had him a little stressed right now. Bitty hadn’t looked totally convinced, but he hadn’t pressed the issue.

       

“Chowder!” The goalie snapped back to the present just in time to see Jack skate down the ice and take a shot. He reached clumsily for the puck but missed as it went sailing over his glove. Jack scowled and came to a stop right in front of the freshman.

       

“God damn it Chowder, the hell is wrong with you?” Chowder opened his mouth to explain himself, but Jack wasn’t done, “You better shape up or you’re going knock us right out of the running.” Chowder felt his heart falter as Jack skated over to the coaches and dipped his head, clearly trying to hide the conversation.

       

“Chow, hit the showers, Anza fill in for him.” Coach Murry called from the boards. Chowder froze. He was being ordered off the ice. Jack had asked for him to be taken off the ice. Without looking at his team, Chowder slowly skated off and made his way back to the lockers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted later this week! :D


	7. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay..... I have no excuse as to why this is so late except that I got a job and it's taking up way more time than I thought it would. Anyways, here is the long overdue chapter 7! The second half of Friday...

     

 

Chowder stepped into the locker room, the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes. He didn’t think he could have fucked up worse than this. Jack’s words echoed in his ears, reminding him exactly how he’d failed. He managed to undress and pack his kit up in record time, before just standing still and trying not to break down. He pressed his forehead against his locker and blindly grabbed the bottle of pills on the shelf.

 

Just once more, he told himself. He just needed not to think right now. His hands shook as he poured a few into his palm and swallowed them dry. He cursed under his breath as he felt hot tears drip out down his cheeks. Chowder scrubbed at his face before slamming his hand down on his locker. He sighed, as his mind became fuzzier, Jack’s words fading to static. His shoulders slumped forward and he leaned completely against the locker. He would have to deal with all this shit later, but now he could just stand and breathe.

     

Chowder felt a tremor course down his spine and squeezed his eyes shut. The shaking would pass, it always did and then there was nothing but that beautiful, perfect high. He clenched his fists, trying to ward off the worst of the quakes. After a full minute he swore he could hear the bones in his legs rattle. Leaning heavily against the nearby lockers, he pulled himself towards the showers. He must have been biting his lip because his teeth wouldn’t fit together right, but he couldn’t feel the pain.

 

His hand slipped over the dial, his palm slick with sweat. Eventually cold water rained down on him. For a moment, his mind was clear with the shock, and then the quakes rocked him harder. He let out a small cry as his knees crashed into the tile. His head spun, and his eyes refused to open past a sliver. His palms scraped over the drain as gravity dragged him down further. He rasped out a breath as his stomach clenched painfully. The shivering wracked him to his core and he couldn’t tell if he was cold or feverish.

     

A voice wormed its way through the fog in Chowder’s head. Panic flooded through him. No one could see him like this. His team couldn’t see him like this. He pinched his eyes shut as running footsteps echoed through the showers.

     

“Oh fuck, Chowder”

     

Chowder groaned. There was no mistaking that accent. Jack had found him in the worst position possible. Jack’s callused hands burned hot against Chowder’s chilled skin as he pulled the goalie out of the stall.

     

“Oh god, please, Chris open your eyes…” The last thing Chowder wanted was to let his captain down again, but his eyelids were just so heavy. “God fucking damn it! Chris c’mon…” Jack’s voice sounded so broken. If he didn’t feel like his body was coming apart at the seams, Chowder would have felt the greatest shame of his life. He vaguely heard Jack dial his cell phone and yell something, but it was much easier to focus on the cool tile under his cheek than on far away sounds.

     

“Chowder, hey, listen to me,” Jack’s burning hands were back, this time pawing over his face, “Listen to you gotta stay awake.” Chowder rocked a bit on his side, his hands blindly reaching out to the heat.

     

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jack’s voice was breaking, “Chowder, I’m begging you, open your eyes. Just say something, please, god damnit.”

     

Chowder hiccupped out a breath as the shaking returned, more violently than before. Through Jack’s shouting he heard more footsteps and voices. More hands were dragging at him, burning his skin.

     

“Chowder!? No, no!- Get off me Shitty! Chowder, c’mon please!”

     

Nursey. Nursey was screaming, broken and breathless from somewhere near his right.

     

“Chowder I swear to god if you- Fuck! Chowder wake up!” Nursey’s voice was a buzz in the back of Chowders mind. He was still shivering on the floor, furiously trying to make his jaw work; to tell them all that he was fine and this would pass and could they all leave and not stare at him anymore.

     

“Jack what the fuck is going on?” Shitty’s voice sounded strained.

     

“He’s overdosed on something, I don’t know what… _Merde,_ someone go wait outside for the ambulance.”  Chowder tried to lift his head and tell his team not to worry, he was fine, but his body didn’t obey him. It was getting harder to hear what the others were saying, and as much as he didn’t want to let Jack down, he really wanted to go to sleep.

     

Suddenly, the nausea washed over him again making bile rise in the back of his throat. Chowder tried to fight it down, but he didn’t have the strength left. Helpless, he felt his body rebel against him, flooding his mouth with vomit. He worked his jaw trying to spit the vile taste away, but all he managed was a weak cough that splattered the floor in front of him. For a moment he panicked. His throat was full of vomit, slowly leaking out the side of his mouth and he couldn’t clear it no matter how hard he tried.

He had just felt his airway choke when callused fingers forced their way past his lips and held his teeth apart. Methodically, Jack scooped the bile out of the back of Chowder’s throat, leaving his mouth foul tasting, but blessedly empty. It was humiliating. He was lying on the floor of the showers in a soaked through pair of boxers with vomit slowly staining his t-shirt. He couldn’t take it anymore. He _had_ to try and get up.

     

“Easy Chris,” Jack said, as the freshman began to splutter. Jack’s hands ran down Chowder’s ribs, trying to sooth the tremors

     

“He definitely took something.” Dex’s voice was shaking, “Someone check his locker!” Chowder felt his heart clench again. Dex was here too? Was the whole team watching him writhe on the floor helplessly pinned by Jack? More footsteps and some muffled words passed through the fog in Chowder’s head.

     

“This was in his locker, I don’t know what it is,” Bitty sounded tearful, “It looks like a pain killer or something, god, I don’t know…” Chowder finally gave in and closed his eyes, letting the tension out of his shoulders. His teammates’ voices became more and more disjointed.

     

“Where the fuck is the goddamn ambulance, shit!”

     

“Calm down, Shitty,”

     

“Jack, what should we do?”

     

“Just everyone stay calm….”

     

“You don’t think he… y’know, did it on purp-“

     

“Shut up! Just shut up, Dex, shut the fuck up!”

     

“Nursey-“

     

“Stay with me, Chris…”

     

Jack’s hand was warm again his neck. It was really all he could feel at this point. The rest of his body had gone strangely numb.

     

“You need to stay with me, Chris, _please._ ”

     

Slowly, the fog became more and more dense, until all he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears.

_“_ _Tu as besoin rester avec moi, Chris, s'il te plait... Tu ne peux quitter pas…”_


	8. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man.... Oh man i have no excuse for how late this is please do not hate me............

       

 

Jack hated hospitals. He hated the way they smelled, the way they were never completely quiet, and he hated that whenever he was in one, it was because there was something wrong with him. Now, he hated their thick white walls, keeping him from seeing the youngest member of his team.

       

After Chowder had gone limp in his arms, the team had panicked. Ransom and Holster had to pin Nursey back against the lockers to stop him from getting to the goalie. Bitty had broken down, desperately clinging to Shitty, while Jack stayed, knelt on the cold wet floor, holding Chowder on his side.  
       

He’ll never forget the relief he felt when their coaches had rushed in, two paramedics in tow, and told him to back away from his charge. After Chowder had been loaded into the ambulance and sped away, Coach Murray had told them that he called Chowder’s parents and they would fly in as soon as possible. Meanwhile, they were to go to the hospital and text him with any details they could get. He and Coach Hall would wait for the Chows at the airport.  
       

That all seemed like a lifetime ago. Jack felt like he’d been sitting in this plastic waiting room chair for years rather than hours. He was exhausted, but there was no chance that he could sleep. The guilt pressing down on his conscience was enough to keep him awake.

  
The rest of his team was in a similar state. Bitty was curled in a chair beside Shitty, his cheeks wet with tears. One hand was laced with the older boy’s, their joined hands tucked under his chin.  
Shitty looked shell-shocked. In the locker room he had screamed at Jack, desperate to do something, but now he sat perfectly still, eyes wide and terrified.  
       

Across from them, Ransom sat with his hands twisted together, gnawing on his fingernails. Holster had one hand on the arm of Ransom’s chair as though he had tried to make Ransom stop, but gave up half way. Both of their cheeks were wet.  
       

“It’s been a while…” Dex glanced at the clock. They’d barged into the hospital about two hours ago, frightening the poor receptionist. She lead them to a waiting room down the hall and told them that as soon as there was any news, they would know. “You’d think they would have figured out something by now…”  
       

“There’s nothing we can do Dex,” Nursey spat from his chair across the room, “So just shut up.” Dex glared at his defence partner.

       

“What the hell is your problem?” Dex shot back.  
       

“My problem is that you talking isn’t gonna help anything. ” Nursey twisted his beanie in his hands, “So shut up, and stop making the whole thing worse.”  
       

“How the hell am I making it worse?” Dex countered.  
       

“Both of you stop it!” Shitty shouted over the din. The frogs’ mouths snapped shut. “Look, this is rough on all of us, and I know tensions are way fucking high, but the last thing we need is to be kicked out of here because you two are at each other’s throats.” He ran his free hand through his hair, “I know we’re all tired…. But please, just stop fighting.” The room seemed to settle and return to its tense, silent state.  
       

“I’m sure we’ll hear something soon, Dex,” Bitty said softly, as though he could placate the younger by responding to his first statement.  
       

Dex gave a vague shrug and looked back up at the clock. Nursey steadily refused to look at his defence partner and continued to stare at the beanie in his hands.  
       

Another half hour passed and no one spoke. Bitty’s tears had quieted, and his grip on Shitty’s hand had loosened. Ransom had fallen into a light doze, his head resting on Holster’s shoulder. Jack stayed as still as he could, ignoring the desperate urge to go and yell at someone; to demand information on his teammate. The longer they waited, the more hopeless everything seemed.

       

He should never have sent Chowder off the ice on his own.  
       

He’d been so angry at Chowder then. All he could think about was how irresponsible and disrespectful had been, showing up to practice high. He hadn’t thought for a moment that maybe there was something very wrong with the fact that Chowder, who had declined weed from Shitty on the pretence that it made him sleepy, was standing there completely stoned.  
       

His only solace was that he’d had the sense to follow Chowder off the ice. Who knows how long it would have been until they found him? He could have choked on his own vomit or fallen and cracked his head open or-  
       

“Chris Chow?” A voice called from the end of the room. All five of them scrambled to their feet and turned to face the nurse who had entered       

       

“Is he okay?” Dex was the first one to speak, stepping closer to the stocky man in green scrubs.  
       

“Are you family?” He answered quickly. Dex stared blankly at the nurse. There was no way they could lie their way through this. A quick glance around the room would prove that none of them were actually related to Chowder.

       

“We’re his hockey team,” Nursey said as he walked to stand beside Dex. “He’s okay though right? He’s gonna be fine? Please, no one’s told us anything. We just want to see him.” The nurse’s eyes flicked around the room again, calculating how to handle the situation with the least disorder.

       

“He’s awake now, and we expect him to make a full recovery.” He began carefully, “But until a legal guardian arrives, I cannot allow you to see him.”

       

“So he’s just lying in there alone?” Ransom shouted, bearing down on the nurse.

       

“Sorry, we-“

       

“We’re his team!” He continued, “This is bullshit! We’re all he has right now.” The nurse squared his shoulders and held his ground against the outburst.

       

“I’m sorry,” He said firmly, “But legally I can’t let you in or give you details of his condition until his family arrives.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around at the ragged team. “If he asks to see you unprompted, then maybe we might be able to make an exception.” Ransom looked like he wanted to yell more but Holster beat him to it.  
       

“You’re so full of shit,” He spat at the nurse, “He’s probably scared out of his fucking mind and you want him to lie there alone while we just sit here with our thumbs up our-“

       

“Holster!” At the sound of Jack’s voice Holster visibly deflated. The nurse ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

       

“I understand that this is difficult, but please try to be patient. We’re doing everything we can to make your friend comfortable.” He continued, “You’re welcome to stay here and wait, or you can find the hospital cafeteria on the fourth floor.” The nurse stood for a minute more shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m very sorry I can’t do more.” He looked vaguely uncomfortable as he began to make his way back to the ward. Jack sank back into his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face.  
       

“This is bullshit…” Holster murmured, as he slunk back to his chair. Ransom began pacing, his fists clenched tighter than ever.

       

“He’s going to be okay,” Bitty said, “We can be thankful for that at least…” He carefully picked his way over and sat down next to Jack. Now that he was closer, Jack could see how ragged Bitty really looked. He was sitting with his legs tucked up onto the chair, his fingers gripping his knees to stop his hands shaking. It had been a while since he’d stopped crying, but his eyes were still red and ringed with dark circles. He looked so pathetic that Jack felt instinctively that he should protect him.  
       

The rest of his team wasn’t faring much better. Shitty had curled in on himself, his hands fisted in his hair with head hanging down. The two remaining frogs clustered close together, looking very small without Chowder’s tall frame between them.

 

“Why won’t they let us see him?” Ransom had come to an abrupt stop in front of Shitty, “Chowder’s parents won’t be here until morning, and he can’t just-“ Ransom’s voice choked out, but he continued to stare at Shitty as though he could explain everything. Shitty lifted his head, and gave a tired shrug.  
       

“It’s protocol, I ‘spose,” He answered, his voice hoarse. “They can’t let us see him until his parents say we can.”  
       

“So he’s just supposed to stay in there alone?” Dex ground out, keeping his eyes fixed on the door the nurse had disappeared behind. Jack swallowed thickly.

       

“They, uh,” He began, trying to speak around the increasingly painful lump in his throat, “They don’t know that he didn’t, y’know...” Bitty was staring at him, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “They think he might have done it on purpose.” Jack couldn’t look at Bitty as he said it, but he heard him gasp and try to stifle a quiet sob. “And if he did, then we-“ Jack felt his chest tighten, “They know we were the last to see him before… “  
       

“They think it’s our fault.” Nursey whispered, “They think we did this.” Jack would give everything he owned to forget the choked off wail Shitty made as he collapsed in on himself at the words. Beside him Bitty began trembling, burying his face in his jeans.  
       

“He-“ Ransom was still standing, staring at Shitty’s shaking frame, “He didn’t- He wouldn’t-“ Holster tugged gently at his sleeve, guiding him to the adjacent chair. Holster kept him grip tight on Ransom’s sleeve until the other defence man took his hand.  
       

“It’s all my fault…” Nursey lifted his head to face them. “There’s something I should have told you.” Jack tore his gaze away from Shitty and stared at the younger man. Nursey, shifted in his seat under his gaze.  
       

“About a month ago, I noticed Chowder was having trouble with his shoulder. He didn’t want me to tell anyone- he didn’t want anyone to worry y’know?” Nursey paused and ducked his head, “I told him he needed to see someone, y’know, professional about it. He told me that he did, and he seemed to be better so I just… I didn’t think to tell any of you.” Dex cautiously put his hand on Nursey’s shoulder.  
       

“I guess that’s where he got the painkillers, and when he started acting weird I asked him if it had anything to do with it. He said everything was fine and I-“ Nursey finally looked up, shame etched in his face, “I didn’t think he would lie about something like that.” Nursey wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, “I just wanted to, y’know, give him some space; let him deal with this on his own, but I swear if I knew it was going to get this bad I would have told you guys.”

       

The room was silent. Nursey looked up at them all with pleading eyes as though he needed forgiveness for what he’d just said.  
“I knew.” Dex said, “It’s not just your fault, Nursey.” Dex stared resolutely at his shoes. “Nursey told me about two weeks ago about Chowder’s shoulder. I was worried I guess… I never thought that he was… I mean Chowder isn’t the type I would, like, expect to do something like this.” The room lapsed into silence again.  
       

“It’s not your fault,” Jack forced out around the lump in his throat, “You had no idea this would happen.” Nursey’s lip quivered as he nodded and shrank back in his chair. “But you should have come to me, or the Coaches about Chowder’s shoulder the minute you found out.” He continued, “The health of a teammate is top priority.” He spared a brief glance at Bitty, briefly remembering another injury to his team.  
       

To his credit, Nursey didn’t cry. He leaned heavily on Dex and clenched his fists to stop them shaking, but the only sound he made was a soft hiccupping that everyone else was polite enough to ignore.  
     

 “So now we know what happened…” Shitty whispered, looking at Jack across the room. The team settled back into a listless rest, returning to their state of vigil.

       

“Which of you is Jack Zimmermann?”

 

Jack’s head shot up. The stocky nurse had returned. Jack forced himself out of his chair, ignoring the stiffness of his muscles from sitting still.

       

“I am.” His heartbeat roared in his ears. “Is there any news?”

       

“He’s asking to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise next chapter we'll get to see our precious frog!!!!


	9. Friday Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back B)

 

 

 

“Christopher? Hey buddy, can you open your eyes for me?”

 

Chowder didn’t want to open his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep. He had been having a good dream about being back home with Carmel in the park by his house.

 

“C’mon Christopher, just try to open your eyes.”

 

At this point Chowder wasn’t sure he could open his eyes if he wanted to. They felt heavy and dry, like they did after a night of drinking. He was sure whoever was asking for him could wait another few minutes as he slept in a bit more.

 

“Christopher I know you’re awake, so how about we work together on this. Help me out man, open your eyes.”

 

Whoever was talking to him seemed to really need him awake.

 

“You can go right back to sleep in a minute, I just need to ask you some questions.”

 

Well that didn’t sound so bad. He could sleep again soon. That would be nice. Besides, whoever was talking to him clearly needed something and it would be rude to just nap while he asked for help.

 

Chowder pried his eyes open.

 

The first thing he saw was a plain set of ceiling tiles that didn’t match his dorm at all. Where was he? The second thing he saw was a kind looking doctor leaning over his bed and smiling at him. The scratchy sheets and the flimsy gown he was wearing confirmed his suspicions; he was in the hospital.

 

Why the hell was he in the hospital?

 

“Hey, there you are.” The doctor said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a penlight, “You gave us all quite a scare there.”

 

“A scare?” Chowder’s voice ground out. His throat stung at the attempt to speak, like he had a cold or thrown up or-

 

“Yes… Your teammates brought you here a couple hours ago,” The doctor shone the light into both Chowder’s eyes before nodding in satisfaction and tucking it away again.

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

After falling on the floor of the showers he must have passed out. This was so embarrassing, and the team would never let him live it down. They were probably laughing about it right now. Shitty would call him a fainting goat for the rest of the season.

 

The doctor reached over and poured him a cup of water, which Chowder drank gratefully. The cool liquid soothed his throat and chased the last bits of sleepiness away.

 

“My name is Dr. Maine, but you can call me Rob if that makes you more comfortable,” Rob said as he took the cup back from him, “Can you tell me what you remember from earlier tonight?”

 

Chowder swallowed thickly.

 

“I went back to the locker room, and I went to take my uh-” Chowder faltered. Rob would have known about the Percocet. There was no way his team hadn’t found his meds and told him. “I took some painkillers. After that I guess I must have fainted, I don’t know….”

 

Rob reached to the end of Chowder’s bed and grabbed a clipboard. He pushed his glasses up his nose before meeting Chowder’s gaze once more.

 

“You said you took some painkillers. Have you been taking these regularly?”

 

“Yes, my shoulder was hurt and I went to a clinic. They gave me a prescription for Percocet.” He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but a slight tremor in his voice gave him away. He was terrified. He didn’t know what was wrong with him or what was going on.

 

Rob kept his eyes on the clipboard, “Where you taking your prescription as directed?”

 

“Yes!” Chowder said too quickly. Rob put down the clipboard and leaned forward.

 

“Christopher,” he said softly, “Is that the truth?”

 

Chowder felt shame burn hot in his throat.

 

“You won’t be in any trouble with me,” Rob continued, “I just want to know why this happened.”

 

Chowder deflated under Rob’s steady gaze.

 

“No… I had been taking more than I was supposed to.” He said at last, “Not to get high though!” He quickly added, “Just to… To make me calm and stop rushing through thoughts and worrying about stuff and sleeping better. I didn’t mean for this to get out of hand, I didn’t think anything _bad_ was going to happen I just-” Chowder’s voice faltered, “I’m sorry…” He finished lamely, “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

 

Rob sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Christopher, I need you to be completely honest with me. Did you intend to overdose?”

 

_Overdose._

The word made Chowder’s stomach lurch. Oh god, that’s what he did.

 

“No, no, no, I didn’t even think I was taken enough for that- I didn’t think-,” His mind was so crowded, and sentences just wouldn’t form correctly in time, “I _never_ meant to overdose, I didn’t try to- I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

 

Rob hushed him gently, motioning for him to lay back on the pillows.

 

“It’s okay, Christopher, I believe you,” He picked up the clipboard again, “But you really gave us all a shock.”

 

Chowder felt his eyes burn. Shit. The team would have been so worried, not to mention the fact that he’d probably ruined their chances of making it to the playoffs.

 

His heart froze.

 

He’d be kicked off the team for this. He was a liability now; he’d broken their trust in him completely. He’d focussed so much on not letting the team know that he’d been hurt that he let them all down in the worst way. Fuck, they were going to hate him for this.

 

His throat suddenly felt dry again. He needed to apologize; he needed to _beg_ for forgiveness. There was no way in hell that the team would ever take him back now, but he needed to tell them that he didn’t mean for this to happen.

 

The last thing he wanted was to hurt them.

 

“M’ sorry…” he croaked, dropping his head to his hands, “I… I ruined everything didn’t I?” Rob leaned over and put a hand on his back.

 

“Christopher,” He said, in that same gentle tone, “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. Just try to rest now. Your parents will be here in the morning and you can go home as soon as we’re sure you’re going to be okay.”

 

Chowder tried to stop his eyes from welling up, but the tears slipped out and splashed down his front. His parents were coming. He pictured them getting the call that their son was in the hospital and they’d have to fly across the country to make sure he was alright. He wondered how much they had been told.

 

They were going to be so disappointed in him…

 

“Christopher, please, try to calm down.” Rob pushed him back down onto the bed as Chowder snuffled and wiped his eyes, “You didn’t ruin anything. The most important thing is that you’re okay, and I’m sure your family, and your team are very, very grateful that you are.”

 

His team. Oh god, were they here?

 

His need to apologize to them all flared hot in his stomach. Nursey and Dex were probably tearing each other apart without him, and Bitty– Fuck, Bitty would be so worried.

 

He needed them to know that it was okay; this was just a stupid mistake, and they wouldn’t have to deal with him much longer.

 

“Are they… Did my team come here?” Chowder asked.

 

He tried not to let the selfish part of his mind that desperately wanted his team to rush in the room and say how worried they were, and how they forgave him immediately from hoping too much. There was no way they weren’t terribly angry with him for this.

 

“Your team came here with you,” He said with a small smile, “They’re out in the waiting room right now.”

 

Chowder worried his lip. He really wanted to see his team. If he could just see them, he might be able to explain what happened. Maybe they could forgive him after they understood.

 

“Can I-” Chowder began and then stopped.

 

He desperately wanted to see his team, but he was suddenly acutely aware of how awful he felt. He pictured his team, who were loud regardless of the situation, wound tight with stress, and anger. They’d be a lot to take in right now. Chowder wasn’t sure he could handle them.

 

He could see Bitty maybe or Dex and Nursey or-

 

Oh.

 

Chowder settled against the pillow and blinked up at the ceiling. Tears ran down and soaked his hair.

 

“Jack,” he croaked out softly, “I wanna talk to Jack.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk tho, I'm really sorry it's taken me this long to update this fic. 
> 
> But! I'm back with a chapter! Finally! And this one actually has Chowder in it :D
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kind words of encouragement even when I wasn't updating at all, you guys are the best.


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